


Finding Hope

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Magic, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:17:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1704551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No magic, no Voldemort. Harry does not live in a magical world, he lives in an ordinary world devoid of the wonder of magic. Though he lives a life of abuse from his unloving Uncle and Aunt he tried to overcome it, and is helped greatly when he recieves a letter to attend a private boarding school; A school that his parents enrolled him in before they died. ***WARNING*** child abuse- Verbal, Physical and Sexual</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter as written by J.K Rowling. I also apologize for any misspelled word (in the British styling that is) and/or incorrect terminology or information regarding England...I am from Canada, I try my best.

Harry Potter was not an extraordinary person. He lived in the cupboard under the stairs at number Four Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey, England. It was a boring, ordinary neighbourhood, with boring neighbours that suited the Dursley family just fine. They were the family that Harry was forced to live with simply because Petunia Dursley was his Aunt and last living relative. Every year Harry wished that something would happen to take him away from the Dursley but for nearly thirteen years nothing had happened.  

 

Harry sat on the swing at a nearby park sucking a fag, a comfort he had picked up at Stonewall High, to calm his nerves. Earlier that day Harry had asked if there was any way he could move into a bigger room, a perfectly innocent request since he had grown to a point where he had to curl awkwardly in his bed, but still had his head pushed against one wall and his feet against the other. 

 

“We took you in out of the goodness of our hearts, gave you our food and a place to sleep and now you want more?” bellowed his Uncle, Vernon Dursley, a particularly fat man with a walrus mustache. “If I gave you a room, where would we put Dudley’s things?” 

 

Dudley grunt beside him, shovelling bacon and eggs into his mouth. Like his father, Dudley was by all meanings, heavy and spoiled. 

 

“He doesn’t even use, like, ninety percent of the things in that damn room.” Harry snarked into his porridge. He immediately regretted opening his mouth as his uncle went from red to a worrying shade of purple. 

 

“I NEVER HAD TO BRING YOU IN, BOY! I SHOULD HAVE SENT YOU TO AN ORPHANAGE INSTEAD OF DEALING WITH AN UNGRATEFUL BRAT LIKE YOU.” Vernon roared, the veins on his neck bulging. “YOU ARE JUST AS WORTHLESS AS YOUR DRUNK FATHER AND CRACKED OUT MOTHER.” 

 

Harry left after that. It was more than he could take. When he had turned eleven the Dursleys decided that he was old enough to know that the car accident that killed his parents and left him with a lightning shaped scar was really cause by his own father driving drunk. 

“Bullocks,” Harry whispered, burying the butt of his fag in the dirt with his foot. Harry had not had a very good childhood, with his Uncle’s verbal assaults and Dudley’s physical ones his childhood memories were usually dismal.  

 

He walked in silence back to his “home”, although in Harry’s mind the place barely qualified as a place to sleep. He was barely thirteen and he smoked, barely thirteen and he had thought to himself:  _‘Would anyone care if I just slit my wrists and died?’_  Although his Aunt Petunia, a horse faced woman who cared little for Harry and too much of the neighbors thinking that she and her family were perfectly normal, would be more likely to rave about cleaning up blood than mourn the loss of one Harry Potter. He was thirteen, and felt that no one in the world loved him. 

As he walked back in to the terribly perfect suburban home, he heard his Aunt upstairs running the water in the bath tub. Harry’s heart sank; He knew what was coming, he knew what his Aunt would do and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was no way he could stop it. 

 

“Harry? Is that you?” Petunia asked from the top of the stairs, with an oddly hungry look in her eyes. 

 

“Yeah, it’s me, Aunt Petunia.” He replied, forcing his mind to go somewhere else, to be anywhere but in that bathroom with his Aunt. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Harry sat in the kitchen, eating a slice of toast with a bit of marmalade when the post arrived. Of course his Uncle bellowed at him to fetch it even as he began to stand. 

 

“You’re too easy on the boy, Vernon.” Aunt Marge scolded her little brother. “If the boy doesn’t respond to shouting you need to start using the belt.” 

 

Harry rolled his eyes as his ‘Aunt’ told uncle Vernon all the useful beating tricks to make him listen. Harry just counted his blessing that he had no relation to the horrid bitch that was Aunt Marge. 

 

_‘Bill, bill, magazine, bill, post card, bill_ _–_ _wait this is for me?’_  Harry thought as he shuffled through the mail. How could Harry get a letter? Who would send him a letter? 

Eagerly he tore into the envelope, destroying the stamp and nearly ripping the top corner off. 

_Dear_ _Mr._ _Potter,_  

_We are pleased_ _to inform you that you have been enrolled at Hogwarts Academy for Further education. Your enrollment was made_ _and_ _tuition_ _paid_ _prior to your birth by Mr. James Potter and Mrs. Lily Potter, and we welcome you to the school…_  

 

How could his parents pay for a private school? His parents were drunks and his mother had been strung out. No way could this be real. 

 

“What do you have there, boy?” Uncle Vernon sneered. 

 

“A letter, Harry’s got a letter!” Dudley roared as he snatched the letter from Harry’s hand before handing it to his father with a look of accomplishment plastered on his pig face. Harry demanded it back, but his Uncle silenced him with a purple faced glare; Regardless of what Aunt Marge seemed to think, Uncle Vernon already hit Harry when he was mad enough. 

 

“Enrolled at Hogwarts Academy for Further Education? What sort of name is Hogwarts?” He fumed. “And what school starts enrollment at thirteen?” 

 

“Hogwarts?” Petunia gasped, a look of utter disgust on her face. Everyone turned to face her, even Aunt Marge changed her expression from her usual snobbish disgust to a look of minor interest. 

 

“You know of this school?” Harry asked, incredulously. 

 

“Hrumf, a rubbish school, in my opinion.” Marge barked. “Their Headmaster is a crack pot. Think’s the Yanks have it right with what age their runts start different schooling.” 

“Well no one asked you, did they?” Harry snapped. He was rewarded with a sharp smack to the top of his head as Aunt Petunia broke the wooden spoon she had previously been holding over his head. 

 

“It is a rubbish school.” she sneered. “Any school that would accept your whore mother and pathetic father has to be. Oh when my dear sister was accepted my parents were so proud, their perfect little girl had a full scholarship to a private school that had Alumni in the governments and high up the corporate ladder. Little did they know what would happen to her, and the ideas they’d give her.” 

 

Harry thought that this had to be some cruel trick, some horrid joke that they were playing. His Mother and Father had gone to a private school and now he was going to? His parents had been alcoholics and drug addicts, how could they have gone to private school? Was the school real? Harry knew that the letter was his only hope to understanding what was going on. 

He didn’t know if he had somehow gone insane or if he had finally given in to all the reckless thoughts he had, but in a single moment of pure rash behavior Harry charged his Uncle, grabbed the letter back, and barrelled head long out the back door and over the garden wall. 

 

* * *

 

 

_Dear_ _Mr._ _Potter,_  

_We are_ _pleased_ _to inform you that you have been enrolled at Hogwarts Academy for Further_ _Education. Your_ _enrollment was made and tuition paid_ _prior to your birth by Mr. James Potter and Mrs. Lily Potter, and we welcome you to the school._  

 

_We offer a place within our schools Boarding House, complete with meals and nutritional snacks provided during breaks between classes. Students are sorted_ _into four different boarding houses and then further sort into rooms based on age._  

 

_The school is run on a modified version of the North American High school system, students will have core class they are required to take as in accordance to the GSCEs and then several classes for student interests (Visual Art, Photography, Animal biology, Mechanics and Automotive, etc.). This is the followed by two years of Post-Secondary preparations._  

 

_A list of items required for schooling,_ _information about the first day, transport to the school and the schools rules will be mailed within the first week of August._  

 

_Regards,_  

_Minerva McGonagall,_    
 _Deputy Head Mistress_  

 

 

It was hard to believe what he was reading, this was a real place…it had to be. Everything instinct he had screamed that this was real, that he could finally get away from the Dursleys, that maybe his parents weren’t the terrible people that he had thought they were his whole life. 

 

First though, he had to survive the return to his dwelling on Privet Drive.  

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this chapter made me feel icky writing them

It was near midnight when Harry finally returned to his Aunt and Uncles house. For most of his time in hiding, he had reread the letter from Hogwarts, trying to find something that would confirm that it was in fact a prank that somehow this was all a ploy by the Dursleys to crush Harry’s spirit even more. Though the thought that they had tried to keep the letter from him nagged at him. Why would they do that if it were a prank? Unless they were just trying to be convincing? 

The door was unlocked, a very worrying sign. He crept silently into the dark house hoping to any greater power that might exist that the Dursleys just left the door unlocked for him. That hope was short lived. 

He felt a great fat presence beside him as he moved in front of the opening into the living room, and then he literally felt as a great, fat fist connect into his head. 

Sparks shone in his eyes, and Harry was unsure whether the sudden brightness was from the punch or if his Uncle had turned on a light. 

“How dare you show such disrespect in my home?” Vernon Dursley sneered. Harry turned to look at his Uncle, and it was then that he noticed his glasses were not on his face. Harry reached for them, but his Uncle got to them first. 

Harry heard the snap of his glasses being broken by his Uncles meaty hands. 

“You think you can just take things from me? Knock me to the ground, and talk back to my sister?” He said, throwing the pieces of Harry’s glasses at him. 

“It was  _my_  letter.” Harry mumbled before he caught himself. Vernon lunged at him, grabbing his forearm in a vice-grip and pulling him closer. Vernon struck again, first across the face and then twice on Harry’s torso. 

“You will learn some respect, one way or another.” Vernon spat. Harry could barely breathe, he felt his nose running but whether it was mucus or blood he couldn’t tell. He felt like his ribs were burning and his stomach was cramping from the impact of his uncle’s punches and on top of it all he was completely dazed by pain. He didn’t even realize his Uncle had lifted him to his feet and all but dragged him to the cupboard that was Harry’s room until he felt the air sweeping across his face and then the impact of the stairs against the crown of his head before he slumped onto his mattress and curled into a ball. 

He heard the clack of the lock on the outside of the cupboard door and then the heavy footfalls of his Uncle as he climbed the steps. Then he heard himself softly crying and felt the tears rolling down his face. 

That night Harry considered ending it all as he had many nights before. 

* * *

 

Harry was given toast and a small glass of water for breakfast the next morning before being marched back into his cupboard prison. He sat on his bed staring at the door and wondering how his life could be so miserable.  

He still remembered the first beating, a beating over a lie Dudley had told. His cousin gave him the remote control for his new monster truck toy and then walked off. Harry was so happy; he was nine years old and just had a terrible day at school and his cousin was finally trying to befriend him. Little did Harry know was that Dudley had run into the house and began to cry and wail that Harry beat him up and stolen his toy. The Dursley’s of course didn’t listen to Harry, and Harry didn’t make things any better when he pointed out how fat Dudley was. His Uncle Vernon struck him across the face with the back of his hand and then continued to hit him until he admitted he was lying and that everything Dudley said was true. 

The beatings came more frequently until he was eleven, and then the bullies did his Uncle’s work for him. Every bruise or scrap he came home with put a smile on his Uncle’s face and a snide comment about learning his place or respect. 

It was also at eleven that his Aunt’s abuse began as well. It started off oddly, she’d make him take his shirt and trousers off in the hall so she could wash them, but she only did it when Dudley and Vernon were not home. Then she began to bathe Harry. And threaten him. 

“You are never to tell anyone about this. Even if you did, no one would believe a rotten boy like you.” she would tell him, and Harry believed her. Why would anyone listen to the son of a drunk and a whore? 

As Harry got older his Aunt began washing him lower and lower, and began telling him that he looked like his father. At twelve, he began to go through his changes in earnest, and Petunia took notice. At twelve was also when he first saw his Aunt naked. 

Harry shook his head, he didn’t want to think about that. He wanted to pretend it didn’t happen. He wanted to pretend that he actually had a happy life. He wanted to pretend that he wasn’t stuck in a cupboard with only two breaks to go to the loo. 

* * *

 

“Hullo there.” a deep friendly voice boomed from outside Harry’s cupboard. It had been three weeks since the Dursleys had locked him in the cupboard and thankfully they had decided he could wander around a bit more, but only until his Uncle decided he was sick of seeing him. 

“Who the devil are you?” he heard his Uncle question in his snobbiest voice. 

“My names Rubeus Hagrid, grounds keeper at Hogwarts.” The man said with obvious pride and happiness. “I’m here for Harry.” 

_What did he say?_  Harry thought, his eyes going wide. He quickly straightened his glasses, trying to adjust them so the tape wouldn't irritate his face as much. Harry left the cupboard and stared at the front door. The largest man Harry had ever seen was there. Tall, almost impossibly tall, and black hair so bushy that it blended in with an equally bushy beard. 

“What do you mean ‘You’re here for Harry’? He isn’t going to that school.” Vernon sneered, but it fell on deaf ears as Hagrid beamed at Harry. 

“Blimey Harry, I haven’t seen you since you were a baby.” He smiled, shouldering his way into the house, and actually having to duck to get through the doorway. “You look just like your old Da, but you got Lily’s eyes. 

“You knew my parents?” Harry asked, staring into Hagrid’s big black eyes. 

“’Course I did. They both use to visit me in my cabin, made them tea.” He beamed, like it was the greatest pleasure to make Harry’s parents tea. 

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Uncle Vernon finally bellowed, his face an unhealthy shade of purple. Petunia had finally left the kitchen to see what was happening and her face twisted into a disgusted sneer when she saw Hagrid. 

“Not a problem, no need to shout.” Hagrid said, waving his hand dismissively at Vernon. “Okay Harry, get your things. We best be off.” 

“He isn’t going anywhere.” Petunia spat venomously.Hagrid finally seemed to notice her, and all friendliness left his face. 

“Well I think you’d know that your sister’s will says otherwise, Petunia” He said, spitting her name out like it had a rotten taste to it. “Besides, you only have partial custody of the boy.” 

Harry’s heart missed a beat. Did he say partial custody? Did that mean that there was someone else out there that would care for him. 

“He isn’t going.” Petunia bellowed, leaving the entire house in a state of shock. One thing Harry had learned for sure was that only Uncle Vernon bellowed. 

“You have no authority to say that.” Hagrid growled, pointing his sausage link of a finger at her. “Harry, get your things.” 

 “I don’t have any… They took it all three weeks ago. The day after Uncle Vernon beat me.” Harry whispered. He didn’t even know why he said it.  _I should have stayed quiet. Now I’m going to get another beating._  

 “After he  _what_?” Hagrid stammered, looking at Harry. Petunia took opportunity to lunge at Hagrid. She may have really been trying to get Harry, but her claw like fingers left bleeding scratches down Hagrid’s hand and briefly exposed forearm. 

It happened quickly after that. Harry was whisked out the door followed by a screaming Petunia and a roaring Vernon, but all of it was muted. He was leaving. He was leaving the Dursleys. He barely noticed that he got into a side car of a motorbike, or that he put on a helmet. He didn’t even notice the roar of Hagrid’s motorbike’s engine, but he did notice the rush of houses as he left Privet Drive. 

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome reviews, just don't be a jerk and send me "I don't like the story, I don't like you. Go kill yourself" (Actual review on a story I had on Fanfiction)


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